


Foot Massage

by rivaillin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1994, Alternate Universe, Ereri Week, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pulp Fiction AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivaillin/pseuds/rivaillin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just another mission for the two professional assassins, Levi and Eren. But it's also the most ridiculous one they've ever had. Plus, Eren has a suggestion. Pulp Fiction (1994) AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foot Massage

**Author's Note:**

> Something stupid I created for the EreRi Week.  
> I am not sorry for Pulp Fiction influences, though. The foot massage conversation is probably my favorite so I had to do something about it as well.
> 
>  
> 
> _It's a foot massage kind of date._

There’s something really depressing about the way the sky seems to be reflecting my eyes for these past few days. Even as I watch Eren’s mouth run about something my mind is not tracking, I wonder why in hell he can keep such high spirits when all the weather asks for is a dull mood, just to match.

Not to mention this job. Oh, _fuck_ , this job is just depressing.

I trail the ends of the glass between my hands and shift my eyes slightly to look past Eren’s shoulder. _That_ guy is still there, sitting three tables away from us. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to our presence. I suppose that’s because two guys, dressed in black suits, having a drink at a bar is a natural sight. What could we be? Well, we could be salesmen. We could… be important motherfuckers. No one would ever guess what we’re here for, unless they took a look under our blazers. I’m pretty sure salesmen don’t carry guns with them on a daily basis.

There’s a pack of cigarettes right next to me, and I reach for it without tearing my gaze away from the asshole by the other table. I don’t even blink. Sometimes, and I know this because I have enough experience, a blink is enough to lose a target out of sight.

“That’s bad for your health.” I hear Eren say with that judgmental tone I hate. “When will you quit that shit?” He leans back in his seat and throws his arm over the back of the sofa, motioning one finger up to point at me. “Quit smoking.”

I train my eyes on the brat, without losing sight of the other guy in my peripheral vision, and take out my lighter to light the cigarette that is already between my lips. I take my time on that first drag and then puff the smoke out slowly and smoothly, just because I know it will tease him. “No.”

He actually frowns. “I wonder if you’ll still have the same opinion when you’re about to die with lung cancer. I do wonder.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I keep doing what I’m doing, getting my judges back on our target and disregarding Eren.

And it’s something hard, I admit. When we first met two months ago, ignoring him was the most complicated thing I’d ever tried to do before—and I’ve had enough complicated situations for a life time, believe it—but I had to learn how to be ignorant of his presence, otherwise, 90% of our missions would be compromised.

First, Eren is way too fiery about everything. If I had to compare our partnership to anything then he’d be a really strong light and I the big shadow behind him. Second, he never shuts up. Third, he’s way too pretty to be doing this job. Way too pretty to be doing this job _with me_.

Unfortunately, as usual, he always knows how to get me to look at him again. And it’s almost painful, because it’s like he wants me to pay attention to him when I clearly don’t want to.

“My birthday is next week.”

I’m surprised because it’s my first time hearing about it, but I don’t show it. I look at him and narrow my eyes. “So?”

Eren bites his lower lip, and from that moment on I know I am doomed and that this whole thing is going down. “I kinda wondered if Erwin would let me take the day.”

It’s almost against my will that I hold my breath and all that last drag I took out of my cigar. It’s shocking because… well, because Eren is Eren, and ever since day one all he worries about is his vengeance against those who murdered his mother all those years ago. And if he’s not close to find them now, it’s surprising he wants to waste 24h of his life not getting at it.

I stare at him and then breathe out through my lips. “Huh,” it’s all I can muster.

“I kinda thought,” he starts to fidget and I want to kick his balls for it, “it would be nice to take the day and just do something.”

“I don’t doubt Erwin will give you the day off if you ask nicely,” I assure him. “I do doubt he’ll give your girlfriend the day off though. She’s on a total different level, you know.”

He stiffs and raises his eyes to glare at me. “When will you quit calling Mikasa my girlfriend?” I shrug and lean back on my seat and that seems to set him off because he goes on. “Besides, what do you mean with _total different level_?”

“Do you really need _me_ to explain?”

Eren sighs and raises his hand. “Whatever. Forget it.”

I almost feel victorious because he’s quiet, even though I know it won’t last for long. And it’s exactly when I look again towards our target that he leans to his side, blocking my vision.

I glower at him. “You’re too thick for glass. Get out of the way, fucker.”

“What the hell are you looking at, though?”

“At what— _what?_ ” I look at him, incredulous. “Do you even realize what we’re doing right now?”

“No?” He pulls a face. “Mr. Moody didn’t share the details with me.” When I just stare, he elaborates. “You didn’t share any information with me. You just told me to _get in the fucking car and shut the fuck up_.”

“Yes, which you only accomplished half way.” I shake my head and then motion towards him, but not really at him. “Three tables from here…”

Eren narrows his eyes and then turns around slowly.  I find myself staring at his neck as it moves to turn his head back to me, and I almost want to slap myself.

_He has a mole…_

“The guy dressed in white?” He asks.

My attention is still nowhere near his face when I reply, “Right.”

“What did he do?”

I shrug. “He fucked up.”

Eren probably knew I was going to ignore him and leave the subject hanging, because just as I am about to pick another cigarette, he snatches the pack away from my reach. “Enlighten me,” he requests with a flourishing grin on his face.

“I really want to punch you right now…”

The grin spreads. “Just tell me.”

“Alright,” I cross my arms, “I’ll tell you. So, there’s this guy—I don’t know his name, let’s call him Fucker—so Fucker is a rich guy. And he’s a rich guy because he sells. And Erwin Smith knows that,” I tilt my head, “and he wants the man under his services. No major thing, just another punk to benefit us.” I watch Eren lean in, he seems really interest. “So, this man, Fucker, accepts whichever deal Erwin proposes. And this one night, when Erwin leaves to attend some other business, he leaves his wife with Fucker. When he gets back, Fucker is giving Mrs. Smith a foot massage. Erwin snaps, throws Fucker out of a fourth floor window, the guy dies, and,” I point at the man behind Eren, “that other dude over there witnesses everything.”

Eren blinks innocently at me. “So… we’re here on a watch.” I’m glad it’s not a question.

I nod, almost proud of him. “Yes, kid. We’re here on a watch shift.”

He leans back in his seat as he digests everything I told him. I know he’s going to ask something, because even I think the story is a bit twisted, so I just look at him and wait.

“A foot massage,” he mutters. Then, he snaps and leans in again, frown obvious. “ _A foot massage?_ Why would the boss throw a man out of a fourth floor window for that reason?”

I snort. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate response either, but… hey, would you let some guy give your girl a foot massage?” It’s almost impossible to hide the need I have to laugh over this subject. “Isn’t it almost the same as eating her pussy?”

Eren jerks at the wording, but he doesn’t flail. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a woman out and giving a woman a foot massage isn’t even the same thing.”

“Ok, let’s put this under your terms.”

“ _What terms_.” He counters in defense.

“Would you let a guy give you a foot massage?”

He blinks. “What guy?”

I shrug. “I don’t know… anyone. It can be anyone.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” He does, I know he does. But, as usual, he’s playing naïve. He does this a lot, actually. “Elaborate.”

“Ok,” I motion towards our target, “would you let him massage your feet?”

He replies almost instantly. “Ew. No.”

“See?” I snicker. “You are not willing to receive a foot massage from just anyone. It means something, doesn’t it? I am not saying it's right, but they do mean something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, fucking Daddy Smith knew it, and Fucker should have known better. I mean, that's his fucking wife. He is not gonna have no sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?”

It’s endearing how Eren eats every single thing I do, every single movement, with his eyes. And then he leans back, crossing his arms and assuming a selfless expression. “That's an interesting point.”

“It is. Still, I doubt the reason why Erwin threw Fucker out of that fourth floor had anything to do with a shitty foot massage.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound like something the boss would do.”

The subject dies there and I am glad for the silence, finally. I’m able to train my attentions on our target once again while Eren plays with my pack of cigarettes in his hand. We’ve been there for two hours; I’m amazed at the brat’s patience.

But after a good fifteen minutes break, he talks again. “I’m just confused about something.”

“What.”

Eren props above the table again, looking at the pack in his hands. “It doesn’t matter the reason why it happened but… if that dude over there witnessed the whole thing, how come Erwin didn’t order us to kill him instead?” He looks up at me and I look back. The kid has a point. “No loose ends, right?”

“That’s his nephew.”

“Hah _?!”_

“ _Shush_ , yes. Erwin’s nephew.”

Eren’s dumbfounded expression is almost cute. “We’re babysitting his nephew?”

I shrug. “More like making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“Yeah, well, ain’t it a bitch.”

He sinks in his chair and starts loosening his neck tie. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

I look at him—correction: at the skin of his neck. “Well, I should have retired already and here I am, getting you started in the thug life and losing a bit of my sanity every day, in the process.”

He laughs. “Oh, shut up. You love me.”

_Yeah, I sort of do, unfortunately…_

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” I tell him.

“What will you give me for my birthday?”

I frown. “Did you just change the subject? I don’t know… What do you want for your birthday?”

Eren lifts two fingers in the air, “I want two things.”

“Can’t do, kid. Pick one.”

He tests me with a look I’m not sure I can cope with until I am actually enduring it. Then, he looks out through the window next our table. I almost thought he looked nervous for a second, but then he looked at me, and I watched his eyes dilate from the sudden lack of light reflecting on them. It almost got me, but I managed to stay impassive.

“I want you to hang out with me,” he said.

In my peripheral vision, I watch our target get up from his table. I’m about to say something, but I lose my words again when I look at Eren and those goddamned eyes of his. I know he’s waiting for an answer but I’m not certain just how he means it.

“We hang out every day, brat… Be a little more original.” I’m unable to look away, even though my conscience keeps telling me I should.

“I don’t mean it like this. I mean a proper date.”

My shoulders drop at that. “What.”

“30th March, it’s a Wednesday. You don’t work but I do. If Erwin doesn’t let me have the day off then I want at least a dinner.”

“A dinner,” I echo.

“At my place,” he’s blushing.

Finally, my eyes snap away towards the door where I am watching our prey leave right under our noses. I still don’t move, though. I look back at the incompetent piece of shit in front of me. “We lost him.”

Eren frowns. “What?”

I motion to the door. “He left.”

He looks at where I pointed and stares. “You don’t seem worried,” he says as he watches me get up. “We’re going after him?”

“Let me just ask you something, Eren… When you say _date_ , are we referring to it as _that kind_ of meaning? Foot massages meaning kind of date.”

He manages to look me in the eyes. “Y-Yes. And you’re not allowed to say _no_.”

I looked down at him. “Why not?”

“Because I managed to do the one thing you’ve been thinking about for the past month. So you can’t turn me down.”

_Ah._

It’s probably in pure awe that I stare at him, because I can see his lip twitch as he tries not to smile. And it’s probably stupid how all I can do is think about a thousand possible ways to deny him, because that’s just how I am… What I ask instead, though, is something I find myself saying before thinking.

“Are you mocking me?”

Eren licks his lips and I frown.

“No,” he says. “I just asked you on a date.”

My nose is wrinkling in spite of myself. “Are you—?” I don’t finish because it’s a stupid question. “I’m—”

“See?” Eren dives his face between his hands. “This is when I realize you don’t listen to me half the time.” He looks at me between his fingers. “You really didn’t hear what I’ve been blabbering about for the past hour, did you? You didn’t.”

I blink. “Did you just spill out your darkest secrets and I didn’t pick them up? Wow. Sorry.” I sat down and leaned back on my seat. “Go on.”

Eren drops his arms on the table and lets out a stupefied laugh. “ _What_. We need to chase that guy…”

“It’s fine. He has a Volvo, I have a Porsche. I’m sure I can give him a fifteen minutes advance.”

“How do you even know which way he’s going?”

“Eren, this driveway only has one way. Go on, we’re losing time. And spare me the verbal diarrhea. I want the short of the whole thing.”

He panicked. “The short of it… _!?_ I can’t say it again, I mean it’s…” He watched my face for a while and then leaned back as well, raising his arms in surrender. “I just went on about how I know nothing about you. We yak about a lot of bullshit, but I really know nothing… and...”

I cocked one eyebrow up. “You want to know?”

Eren gaped to say something, but then closed his mouth shut and stared at me. I could see the flush in his ears. “Sort… of…”

It’s incredible how I’d managed to miss such revelation. But he didn’t make a fuss about it and probably took my silence as an answer, as it always was. This time, however, I was listening.

“Oh,” I mused, “I’m training a baby gay thug? _Cute_.” I said it intending to sound sarcastic, but it wasn’t sarcasm at all.

Eren groaned and rolled his eyes. I took the chance to smile while he wasn’t looking. The fact that he knew, on a subconscious level, that I had been watching him was a bit scary. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he made it look.

“Certainly. Dinner at your place it shall be.” I say before I grab my keys and get up. “Come on, baby thug. We have a sprint to run.”

Eren slowly moves between the sofa and the table. I’m already wandering off but I still hear him mutter, “ _Great_ , just got a new nickname…”

 _Yes_ , definitely a foot massage kind of date.


End file.
